KANPUR: Like Jerry the mouse drawn irresistibly to cheese, turtles in a Kanpur temple pond surface eagerly for cubes of paneer – a bizarre twist in their dietary tale that has both devotees and conservationists doing a double take.Roughly 150 turtles reside in a 2-bigha pond beside Panki Dham, a temple complex also known as Panki Nageshwar temple. Each Wednesday, heads bob above water as softshell turtles paddle swiftly to snag chunks of cottage cheese offered by visiting devotees. Temple administrator Devi Dayal Pathak, whose family has managed the shrine for more than 350 years, recalled when this peculiar feeding habit began to emerge. “A visiting professor was apparently the first to introduce paneer to the reptiles,” Pathak said. “They once ate atta balls offered by devotees, but now clearly prefer paneer. Why they developed this taste, no one really knows.”Turtles are largely averse to dairy, but this shift has become a consistent feature of temple life. Religious lore also plays a role – turtles are associated with planet Mercury, encouraging crowds to gather midweek to feed them in hopes of astrological goodwill.Rajeev Chauhan, secretary general of Society for Conservation of Nature, called the paneer-loving behaviour rare and research-worthy. “These Indian softshell turtles – Nilssonia gangetica – are carnivores and scavengers. Because of that, they can easily digest cheese,” he said.Found primarily in rivers such as Ganga, Indus, and Mahanadi, the softshell turtles usually feast on fish, amphibians, carrion, and aquatic vegetation. Despite their adaptability, they remain protected under Schedule I, Part II of India’s Wild Life (Protection) Act, 1972 – making it illegal to capture or harm them.Pathak said the temple grounds have grown into a sanctuary. An artificial island in the centre offers nesting space, while embankments help curb erosion. Local shopkeepers now stock approved feeding items, and municipal boards provide ecological guidance to visitors.For now, paneer remains top pick on the turtle menu. And every Wednesday, as cubes hit water, heads rise like clockwork – a scene part sacred ritual, part ecological marvel.